


In any life, in any timeline

by ididliterallynothingtoday



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Attempted Assassinations, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Canon divergence - Post - Avengers:Endgame, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, House Husband Steve Rogers, Long Lost Friends, Long lost love, M/M, Mild Angst, No that's not Steve Rogers that's Roger Stevens..., Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Canon Fix-It, Time Travel, World War Threesome, World war threesome is the real endgame, aka the most useless house husband, canon is wrong, director peggy carter, implied consensual sex, mild hilarity and general fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 01:54:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18681751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ididliterallynothingtoday/pseuds/ididliterallynothingtoday
Summary: Post endgame so there are spoilers here!After returning the infinity stones Steve stays to live his life with Peggy but there are a few complications. Turns out Peggy has her own family now and it's quite possible that someone is trying to kill them both. But it's okay because it's nothing that good banana bread won't fix. If only Steve knew how to bake.





	In any life, in any timeline

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AviaCarter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AviaCarter/gifts), [LJSnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LJSnow/gifts).



The woman was supposed to be unkillable. His masters had been trying to have her silently taken care of for nearly two years when he was recalled from his fieldwork in Europe to take over her case. Agent Margaret “Peggy” Carter. Distinguished war record. Agent of the SSR. One of the co-founders of S.H.I.E.L.D, now its Director. Major pain in Hydra’s ass. 

The first wave of would-be assassins had all tried to attack the Director while she was at work. Firstly, with poisons, leading to a series of deaths and injuries – all the wrong targets. This was followed by attacks in her offices, attacks in the halls and by one female agent an attack in the bathroom. All failed. The Director was not proficient in martial arts according the to the file the Asset had been given, but had been listed has having decent hand to hand combat skills and a proficiency in “improvising”. Since the open attacks had failed his superiors required a more creative approach to their problem. One without too much mess that looked accidental. This had led to the second generation of agents attempts to ice the Director. They had moved from attacks at work to cutting the brake-lines of her Plymouth Valiant. The Director had simply crashed her car, got out of it mildly scratched and proceeded to purchase a new vehicle. After this, attempts were made to attack the director at her own home, and sitting outside of said home in one of the bushes at the end of the garden the asset saw why the attempts had failed. The building was large, it had lots of windows and it was occupied by not only the Director but her husband, two children and their nanny. Killing someone in their sleep was by all accounts incredibly easy, but it was made harder when that person shared a bed with someone else and there were multiple people in the vicinity who might hear an intruder.

To complete his mission the Asset would need two things: patience and to start from the beginning.

Much like his predecessors the asset had found the military base incredibly easy to infiltrate. He had been set up, as the others had, with an alias. He chose that of a janitor which would allow him access to any building, any room, any time he wanted. His first mission was to check the status of the bugs placed in the Directors offices. The bugs themselves were working fine, but they were sloppily placed and the asset had moved them to far more strategic and well-hidden positions at the Director’s desks and intervals in the furniture around her main office and adjoining working space, to make sure all parts of both rooms were covered. After this is was a matter of watching and waiting. Something those who had gone before him lacked the finesse to do. They dove straight in and as a result the Director always seemed to be one step ahead. Not this time. 

It was after two weeks of careful surveillance that the Director had shown the first deviation in her schedule. Instead of finishing work late and heading home after dark, as was her norm, on Friday she left work in the early afternoon and drove to the suburbs stopping outside a small wood panelled home and was greeted at the door a man. They had embraced and then gone inside. The director didn’t leave the house until Monday morning. This discovery would be the assets first piece of crucial intelligence about the Director. She lived a double life. 

She was having an affair.

When the asset found this out, he reported it immediately to his superiors and they gave him permission to change tack. Clearly this new beau of the Director’s was the way to solving their little problem. And so, the asset began to watch the Directors lover instead. 

The first part of his surveillance was simple. Wait until the target had left the house in the morning to go in and set up surveillance equipment. Listening devices in all the rooms, trackers attached to jackets and shoes. A second trip would be necessary that evening to tag the clothes which were currently in use. After his equipment was set up the asset took time to sweep the house and search for any workable intelligence. The kitchen was near empty, a lack of food and crockery suggested the houses occupant lived alone. In the living room items were still in boxes. This suggested a recent move and hence the reason why the Director had not been noted to visit the house before now. However, a framed photo of the Director, younger and in military uniform, on the bookshelf indicated that the relationship may be an older one. A recently rekindled romance? The asset made a note to ask his handlers for information on the Director’s history. 

Upstairs the bathroom was as clean and sparse as the rest of the house. One tooth brush. Good. The bedroom gave the asset pause. The way the bed was made, sheets folded under the mattress with tight precise corners suggested military. A fact of note, but not a cause for concern. The occupant may be military but was most likely a grunt and therefore in possession of no skills which would challenge the great “winter soldier” in a fight. Some would say the asset was arrogant to think this way. He would say he was right. Closer inspection of the bedside draws showed a sketchbook and pencils, all new, with a series of drawings of the director. Initially portraits and leading into rather more compromising images. Underneath the sketchbook the asset found a box of… condoms, open. An explanation perhaps for the content of the drawings. Regardless, the asset blushed and was glad that his listening devices had been placed after the Director and her lovers’ long weekend. The assets awkwardness was quashed with the sound of the front door. But he was out the window and back to his hiding place in the garden before the target had even made his way up the stairs.

Now all he had to do watch and wait.

***

Steve had been back in the 1970’s for less than a week when Peggy finally came to see him. When returning the infinity stones, Steve had deliberately saved the tesseract for last, planning to stay and live his life out with Peggy. He jumped himself to a few days before the cube needed to be back, giving himself enough time to plan and prepare. His first port of call had been to a betting shop, using sports history knowledge he had googled before travelling into the past to make a quick load of cash to tide him over. In the days preceding the return of the tesseract he managed to rent himself a small house in the suburbs near Camp Lehigh and buy enough things to make it vaguely habitable. Steve found himself counting his blessings that paperwork and documentation in the 70’s still hadn’t reached the obscene levels of the 21st century, which had allowed him to rent without too much hassle. He still needed to get a fake ID to send to his new landlords though. They had been kind enough to let him move in without one, provided that he managed to produce one before his trial period was up. 

Three days into his new life it was time for Steve to get to work, putting his plan into action. He arrived at the labs at S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters early and found a suitable place to hide and wait. At the expected time Tony came hurrying into the lab, grabbed a briefcase and broke into one of the security containers, stealing the cube. Watching his friend work brought a lump to his throat. There was a brief moment Steve wanted to step out and give his Tony one last hug, but the moment fleeting. Ruined by the arrival of Howard Stark, another friend Steve had lost. Steve watched the men leaving together before he made a move to return the cube he had with him. Once it was done Steve felt a weight lift off of his shoulders. His mission to return all the infinity stones was complete and he could finally get on with his next goal. Contacting Peggy. 

Downstairs from the lab he watched past Steve sneaking around, entering Peggy’s office. Minutes later when his past self had left, Steve snuck into the very same room and left a letter on Peggy’s desk, tucked underneath the framed photo of himself. He had written the letter after Tony’s funeral. Watching the small wreath float out into the lake he had been mulling over Pepper’s last words to Tony and it was in that moment he had decided to stay in the past. He had excused himself and headed inside to pen the letter he now left for Peggy. The letter would explain to her that Steve was still alive and had come back for her. For their dance. He had added on his address to the end of the letter and asked her to come and visit him. Once the letter was safely placed on Peggy’s desk Steve returned to his new home.

He waited for two days before Peggy visited him. 

At the sound of the knock on his front door Steve had practically run to open it. All his waiting and planning and he still wasn’t prepared for that moment when he first saw Peggy up close. Grey hairs peppered her head and there were fine lines around her eyes, but she was just as beautiful as Steve remembered her. Steve’s smile was so wide he thought his face might break. Without a word Peggy reached a hand forward and caressed his cheek, Steve lent into her touch and went to bring his hand up to cover hers. The action stopped when Peggy tugged sharply at the edge of his face and then his neck. “So, it’s definitely not a mask then, what are you? Robot or clone?” 

Steve laughed in reply, “It’s me Peg. M’back.” 

The confusion on Peggy’s face turned into a frown. She shook her head. “It can’t be Steve. You can’t be Steve.”

Steve took Peggy’s hand in his and placed it on his chest. “I promise it’s me. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“I think we’ve dealt with quite enough death between the two of us. If you are Steve. Tell me something that only Steve would know.”

“In the war, after Bucky fell, I tried to get drunk for the first time. You found me in the remains of the pub we used to go, the little one down the road from the SSR headquarters. You told me to respect Bucky’s choice to sacrifice himself. Later, when I was over the arctic, I told you to respect mine. You promised me a dance.”

“Well bloody hell.” Was the closest thing Steve got to a hello before Peggy pulled him in for a tight embrace, “I didn’t believe it. I thought the letter was a fake, a prank by someone or at worst an attempt to get me away from my security to try something… but here you are.”

“Here I am.” Steve’s hands felt Peggy’s warmth radiating through her blazer and he rested his nose in her hair, breathing in her scent, “Would you like to come in for dinner? I brought some frozen Pizza and beer.”

Peggy laughed into his chest, “What a delightful meal. A shame your tactical genius isn’t matched by your culinary skills, Captain Rogers.”

“Don’t blame me! I’m still adjusting back to cooking with a gas oven. Tony’s place had this fan assisted electric thing with this weird induction cooker on top.”

Peggy pulled back from Steve’s embrace and they headed into the house. “Why do I get the feeling that little note of yours didn’t fully explain everything?”

Steve looked sheepish and rubbed the back of his head, “Because it didn’t?” he sighed, “So much has happened, Peg. It… there’s so much.”

“Well we do have all night sweetheart. Take your time.”

***

By the time Monday morning rolled around Peggy felt like she was walking on air, and yet some how as she got into her car and headed back to work the emotions she had been holding back all weekend began to feel like a stone in her chest. The weekend had been magical. On the Friday evening they had made a blanket nest on the floor, eaten pizza, drunk beer and talked until their throats were sore. After that? They finally had their dance. In the early hours of the morning Steve had stood up and put on one of his records. The sound was good despite the age of the second hand record player, but it skipped every so often because of scratches on the vinyl. It was a bit like them, she had thought, rough around the edges but still absolutely perfect. Peggy had never felt more at home than when she was in Steve’s arms and so when they had locked eyes, mouths moving towards one another, she never questioned it. She never questioned that kiss, or when Steve said she must be tired and led her up to his bedroom. She never questioned herself when she pushed him down onto the mattress and climbed into his lap planning to make good on so many promises she had made to Steve and to herself during their fleeting time together in the 40’s.

The whole weekend had been like a dream. The stories Steve told of battles he had fought and won. The future sounded like a complex place, dark in so many ways, but she was happy that Steve had found people who cared for him, his own family. She was even happier that he was back, but what of her own family? In some ways she was upset at Steve for coming back now, of all the times he could have chosen. But at the same time, she knew, just as she had known back on Brooklyn Bridge when she poured Steve’s blood into the Hudson, she had never truly stopped loving him and likely never would. So where did that leave her now? A husband at home and two teenage daughters. Peggy was a practical woman and was under no illusions, while it wasn’t the thirties any more people still frowned on divorce. And there it was, the D word. She gripped the steering wheel tighter as she drove to work, stopping her train of thought in its tracks and trying to focus on the day ahead. Wherever her relationships with Steve and Daniel went from now on she still had a job to do. Not in the least trying to sort Steve out with some kind of identification and social security number. Perhaps a job too. A S.H.I.E.L.D identity card would do perfectly; it would stop people asking too many questions and if they did, they would answer to Peggy herself. But what job to give him? He couldn’t be a field agent; sure, he had the skills but he couldn’t be out in public without supposedly messing up their current timeline. He needed something discreet, to keep him close. A janitor! 

Peggy smiled to the men in uniform at the gate of the camp, nodding in reply to their good mornings. Yes, if she played her cards right things might just work out, one way or the other.


End file.
